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The moment she opened her eyes, Lin Wanwan, a 21st century Chinese style beauty blogger, was caught off guard and fell into an adobe house in Heihetun in the 1970s. The smell of loess and firewood rushed into the nose, and the hoe that was used to grind out blood blisters was in his hand - the original owner could not survive the hard work, lack of supplies and interpersonal conflicts, and had long since died of depression. But the new Lin Wanwan has tenacity hidden in her eyes. She not only wants to survive, but also lives a vivid and colorful life on the black land. She squatted on the edge of the field, sorting edible wild vegetables, and pondered ways to keep warm in front of the leaky earthen kang. With her wisdom and skill that surpassed the times, she quietly ironed out the difficult days. What really illuminated her predicament was Lu Zhenshan, the militia company commander who was respected by everyone in the village. This tough guy was called the "Living King of Hell". He was silent and decisive, but when the wild boar's tusks approached, he quickly smashed the ferocious beast away with the butt of his shotgun and protected her, who was frightened, behind him. He never talks about love, but protects her with the clumsiest sincerity: the warm egg noodles on the window sill late at night are the rations he saved after hunting rabbits; the newly-pasted window paper and reinforced door frame in the corner of the house are traces of his silent repairs at night. When rumors spread, he stepped on the snow to carry geese to the door, blushed and said to the old party secretary, "I want to marry Lin Wanwan," using the simplest ceremony to block all criticism. After the marriage, he kept her the most tender parts of wild boar meat, exchanged roe deer skins for her favorite fruit candies, and pampered her into a look that was envied by women in the village. Lin Wanwan has never been a dodder flower, and her "golden hand" hides great energy: ear protection hats woven from Ula straw and snowflake gloves sewn from hunting leather scraps. The handicrafts have become treasures that women strive for;